


Safe and Warm

by tipitytap



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Blood, Blood and Gore, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I feel so bad for my son in this, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Fluff, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is Missing, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Langst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith/Lance (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Possible Character Death, Post-Season/Series 03, Pre-Season/Series 04, be warned it's gross, i love him so much why do i hurt him, it's so hard to not give spoilers in the tags but..., klance, klangst, so much langst oh mah god
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-09 00:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17991410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tipitytap/pseuds/tipitytap
Summary: Agonizing stinging shoots up and down Lance’s limbs, every remaining tingling sensation in his muscles dig down into his nerves. A deep aching blooms somewhere in his skull, swirling around in his temples. The pain makes it feel as if his eyes are being pushed out of their sockets. Red’s cockpit shifts around only slightly, but its enough to reactivate all the stinging in his body. He belts out a heavy groan, his voice cracking as he does so. Lance’s eyes flutter open slowly, fighting the heaviness on his top lids. Through Red’s view, it appears Lance is lodged into some kind of… iceberg? Ugh, great. Of course, it’s a fuckingice planet.Or: Lance POV fic where he crash-lands on an ice planet. Most of the story is flashbacks to the five days leading up to this, filled with langst, awkward Keith/Lance flirting, and maybe they get together? Idk I haven't decided yet.





	Safe and Warm

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the langst! This is gonna get messy, and I felt cold writing this. I just want to wrap Lance up in a nice cozy blanket and rub his arms till he's warm again. And also give him a cast for his leg. That too.

Pain.

A shit ton of pain.

Agonizing stinging shoots up and down Lance’s limbs, every remaining tingling sensation in his muscles dig down into his nerves. A deep aching blooms somewhere in his skull, swirling around in his temples. The pain makes it feel as if his eyes are being pushed out of their sockets. Red’s cockpit shifts around only slightly, but its enough to reactivate all the stinging in his body. He belts out a heavy groan, his voice cracking as he does so. Lance’s eyes flutter open slowly, fighting the heaviness on his top lids. Through Red’s view, it appears Lance is lodged into some kind of… iceberg? Ugh, great. Of course, it’s a fucking _ice planet_.

Lance vaguely remembers spiraling out of control as they traveled through a wormhole. He knows for _sure_ they were being tailgated by Lotor and his generals (along with Pidge shouting something about them “riding up our asses”). Somewhere along the way, the wormhole was no longer stable, and it became highly reminiscent of the whole wormhole fiasco back when they had Shiro. Lance’s situation all those months ago (a year? He doesn’t know) was much more… favorable than where he is by now. _Understatement of the century._

Attempting to reposition within his seat proves difficult, as his leg is crushed underneath a part of Red that has been smashed in by a sheet of ice. Said sheet of ice effectively closes off any cool air from seeping in - but it’s still unpleasantly cold despite that. Red whines theatrically in Lance’s mind, making it very clear what her complaints are. Lance can hear her huff even outside of his mind, and he reaches for the control panel to pat her quietly.

“Shh… it’s okay girl. I’m - _ah_ \- okay…” he reassures her softly. It clearly _isn’t_ okay, considering their situation, but the least he could do is try to be nice. Red grumbles at that, causing Lance to chuckle. He runs his gloved hand across the dashboard once more, despite his muscles protesting quite loudly. “We’re gonna get out of this mess, don’t worry babe.” Red’s purring brushes against the back of his mind and his lips quirk in a half-hearted smirk. Red definitely isn’t as welcoming as Blue, but his firey girl is definitely fierce and dedicated. It didn’t take long for him to start liking her, especially when he figured out she responds much more positively than Blue does to flirting. When Lance had thrown around the idea of pet names, Red had practically laughed at him. Which was admittedly better than how Blue had reacted initially. After acquiring this information, Lance had begun to use pet names against Red. She eventually had grown a liking to them, so now he frequently refers to her as “babe” or “cariño”. It was pretty fun, actually.

“Alright, how do I get out of this…” Lance whispers to himself. He looks around the cockpit of the lion to see if there’s anything at arm’s reach that he could use to wedge his leg out of Red’s dented metal. Alas, to no avail, and Lance inwardly groans. This definitely wasn’t going to be a pretty process.

Lance positions the heels of his hands against Red, quietly apologizing as he forces all of his weight into his wrists. An uncontrollable deeply rooted moan escapes his lips as he lifts the weight off his leg. He immediately draws his arms back from the pain, his leg going from excruciating to numb. Lance’s already compromised breathing grows labored, cold sweat beading on his forehead before slowly sliding down his heating face. He leans the back of his head against the pilot seat, swallowing thickly. Red gives him some soothing encouragement (albeit because she's growing impatient, though Lance can’t really blame her), and Lance cranes his neck to stare down at his leg. His armor is completely crushed into his thigh, dried, sticky blood oozing from a puncture wound. Once Lance sees the state of his leg, he’s suddenly aware of the heavy smell of blood in the air. It’s pungent and metallic, settling in Lance’s sinuses and in the back of his throat. His stomach turns, and the beginning of bile teases his esophagus. _Fix now, puke later,_ Lance encourages himself. He leans forward once more, positioning his weak arms to heave up the metal.

The metal finally lifts from his leg fully, and Lance pushes with all his might to force it back into place. Lance’s entire body tingles with pain, a few stray tears had made their way down his cheeks during the whole process. His whole body goes slack, sinking into his pilot seat. Red seems relatively pleased at Lance success, which is enough to wipe away the perpetual grimace on his face.

Once the pain settles slightly in his leg, only _now_ does it dawn on him that he needs to communicate with his team. He sits up straight (no matter how much it hurts), his head swiveling on his neck to find his helmet. He huffs in disappointment after his “search”, coming up short. Eh, he tried.

He was sure that his team would be coming to find him. Any minute now…

Any minute.

* * *

**5 days earlier**

The gladiator’s sword swings over Lance’s head, and he swears it cut off a few strands of his delicate hair. Fuck this.

Lance trips over his feet as he narrowly avoids getting his _head chopped off_ , only to fall square on his back. His yelp reverberates off the walls as he rolls out of the way of the gladiator’s sword - which impales the floor next to him. Lance scrambles to his feet, holding his bayard in trembling hands. The gladiator comes barreling towards him, and Lance swoops out of the way before booking it across the training deck floor.

_Distance, distance,_ Lance repeats to himself before whipping around and aiming for the gladiator's leg. He fires, holding his breath as he watches the gladiator topple over. Even so, it’s still advancing on him quickly.

“Go, Lance!” Hunk shouts enthusiastically, accompanied by Pidge’s whooping. Lance huffs dismissively before squaring his shoulder to shoot the other leg. He ends up firing at the shin instead of the kneecap, but good enough. The gladiator can still adapt, however, as proved by it’s fumbling across the floor to slice Lance’s legs. Lance slams against the wall to get away, and he can hear Hunk wince at the sidelines. _Not helpful, man._

The gladiator nicks Lance’s calf - if only barely - but it’s enough to send a chilling sting up Lance’s leg. Of course, that leads him to panic, and he begins shooting as quickly as he can while aiming at the gladiators head. It eventually dissolves, leaving Lance alone on the training deck floor. He sinks to his knees once all the strain on his body begins crashing down, his shoulders and legs aching. Sweat beads on his forehead before dripping down to hang off the corner of his jaw. He can vaguely hear Hunk and Pidge racing over, shouting it both concern and enthusiasm.

“Lance, that was awesome!” Pidge practically squeals, which is an odd thing to hear from her. Hunk may or may not have bribed her to be more supportive. Lance has no real way of knowing.

“You okay, though?” Hunk asks, helping Lance up by his shoulders. Lance shrugs him off but gives him a reassuring smile.

“Yep, just a little winded,” Lance breathes. Running a hand through his hair, Lance leans back slightly, his smile growing a little more sly. “Thanks for being my audience, you did amazing.” Pidge rolls her eyes after Lance says this along with Hunk chuckling softly.

“It was my pleasure,” Hunk quips before standing up and holding out his hand for Lance to grasp. He does so gratefully and Hunk pulls the red paladin up on his feet.

Lance brushes off his knees before stretching his long arms over his head, his back releasing a satisfying pop. “I think I’m gonna go hit the kitchen. You guys comin’?” Hunk nods enthusiastically, stepping back so he walks by Lance’s side on their journey to the kitchen. Pidge quickly catches up to them, and it doesn’t take her long to start chattering to Hunk about some science mumbo-jumbo Lance never put the effort into learning. He’s still idly listening, though, and he suddenly springs up when she mentions something about Red.

“What about her?” He snaps suddenly. “Don’t you dare insult Big Red.”

“Woah, woah, calm down there, Lance. The minute I even _mention_ your lion you get all - “ Pidge cuts herself off, shaking her head while waving her hands by her face as if she’s erasing what she just said. “Anyway, all I was talking about is that it’s kinda weird that the minute Blue shut you out, Red immediately snatched you up. You didn’t have to do any of that ‘prove yourself’ nonsense that Keith did.” As Pidge is saying this, Hunk is nodding along (albeit hesitantly) as if he really wants to agree with Pidge but doesn’t want to offend Lance. Although… why would Lance be offended? It just proves that Lance is just _that awesome_ , he didn’t even have to try to get Red’s approval. Wait… unless - 

“So you’re saying Red just chose me out of pity?” Lance squawks, thinking back to what he had said before Red called out to him. Something along the lines of he ‘wasn’t even meant to be a paladin’ or something like that. Oh god.

“ _What?_ No, that’s totally not what she was saying!” Hunk is quick to chime in, obvious panic in his deep brown eyes. Yeah, Lance is buying it.

“Yeah, okay, _whatever,_ you two can keep talking about me and my lion and crap, I’ll be in the kitchen.” With that, Lance pushes himself through the doors, walking backward into the room so he can still face Hunk and Pidge.

Pidge sticks her fingers underneath her glances before sliding them down her face dramatically. “Would you _knock it off_ You do this, y’know, where you take things completely out of context and twist it so it’s an attack on you. All I was doing was making an observation!” Alright, nice job, Pidge. Really helping your case here by insulting Lance every other word.

“Firstly, that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to come to the same conclusion that I was! And secondly, _no I do not!_ ”

“Um… am I intruding?” A tentative voice asks. Lance whips around to see Keith sitting on a kitchen counter, a bowl of food goo sitting neatly in the lap of his folded legs. Great, so now _Keith_ is here.

Lance relaxes his body before turning around fully to face Keith. He places his hands defiantly on his hips, cocking one hip to the side. “No, you weren’t Keith. Because in fact, this conversation is _over_!” Lance turns his head to Pidge to make some pouty face at her, and she stares back with fiery eyes. 

“I um… okay,” Keith awkwardly goes back to eating, clearly trying to not pry. 

Lance begins to walk across the kitchen to grab some goo, when Pidge skids in front of him, arms crossed. “No, we’re not!” She says with finality.

“Pidge - “

“No, we are going to have a serious conversation about this! First of all, _yes you do_ , and second of all, why is your immediate thought that Red was pitying you?” After Pidge says this, Lance catches Hunk and Keith exchange a glance that just says “I don’t know either, man”.

“I don’t know, _maybe ask yourself!_ You said that Red chose me for seemingly no reason after Blue decided to shut me out. And it doesn’t really seem that outlandish to think that Red chose me purely to consolidate me!”

“What, do you have word-a-day toilet paper or something?” Keith pipes up.

“Butt out of this, Mullet!” Lance hisses, pointing behind him vaguely in the direction of Keith.

Pidge rests her forehead against her steepled hands. “Okay then… I just - wait, why do you think that?”

“Say what you were gonna say before you interrupted yourself.”

Pidge inhales through her nose deep enough that Lance swears she could inhale a house if she wanted. “All I was gonna say is that I never suggested that may be the reason - but anyway, why do you think that?”

“I dunno! I just always felt like that…” Lance averts his gaze from Pidge, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets. “I just always feel like that I’m just here to fill the color spectrum. You don’t need _me_ , you need a red paladin. Red needed a paladin, so she chose me when Blue shut me out. It was just… convenient.” When Lance looks up from the floor, he’s faced with Pidge staring open-mouthed at him. The entire atmosphere just feels tense, like all the air’s been sucked out of it. Lance turns around to see Hunk and Keith wearing dumbfounded looks (though Hunk’s expression is only a tad less surprised) which only increased the awkward vibes. 

“Lance,” Hunk is the first one to talk in a really long silence. “You don’t really think that, do you?” 

“I wouldn't have said it if I didn’t think it,” Lance chuckles awkwardly, but his attempts at lightening the mood failed quickly. Hunk face goes from surprised to sympathetic, and Lance isn’t too surprised when Hunk races over to scoop him up in his big teddy bear arms.

“Oh, Lance, you are so much more than that,” Hunk mutters, his voice hoarse. Lance barely relaxes in Hunk’s arms before another pair links themselves around his waist.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up,” Pidge whispers. Lance shakes his head in response, his body being a dick and not letting him give her a vocal response. He drops his chin onto Hunk’s shoulder, only to make eye contact with a very awkward Keith. He’s staring with saucer-wide eyes, his body completely rigid. 

“Keith,” Lance mouths. Keith glances at him, squaring his shoulder and pressing back against the wall. Lance snakes his right arm out of Hunk’s grasp to snap his fingers at Keith, beckoning him to come and join the hug. After a long time of flailing his hand back and forth, Keith eventually obliges and hops off the counter.

Keith slips his arm around Hunk’s shoulders and gently (albeit stiffly) places his hand on the small of Lance’s back. Lance relaxes into his touch, which seems to loosen Keith up.

Suddenly, Hunk pulls back slightly so he can look lance directly in the eyes. “What… what can we do? What can we do to convince you that you’re worth it, Lance?”

“Hunk, please don’t blame yourself. There’s nothing you _can_ do,” Lance insists. Pidge drops her head against Lance’s back as if she’s face-palming against him.

“Yeah, okay, that doesn't mean we can’t help!” Keith suddenly springs up, his eyes blazing. Okay, that’s not the least bit disconcerting or anything.

“Guys, can we just shut up and enjoy the hug? Please?” Lance practically begs. The other three grumble in agreement, all shuffling closer to Lance. The boy smiles contently, burrowing his head into Hunk’s collar bone.

* * *

**3 hours in**

Lance watches the way the starlight dances on the glinting icy snow. The star… or sun? Would he call it a sun if this isn’t Earth’s solar system? Anyway, the star melts over the horizon, a beautiful purple and orange light. It would be beautiful… _if it wasn’t so fucking cold_. 

Lance had discovered not long before that he was probably internally bleeding in his stomach. This theory was provoked by the fact that when Lance tried to move out of his seat by leaning forward, it felt like he was being stabbed from underneath his skin. So it’s probably safe to assume he’s probably Not Doing So Hot. After that, Lance had been contemplating whether he should remove his armor so that he isn’t disturbing his wounds, or if he should leave it on so he stays warm. 

He fell asleep trying to decide. 

And now he’s awake again, vaguely aware of the fact that time had passed. He was maybe here for… 2 hours? 3? He had no real way of knowing. He _could have_ , but Red had completely shut down not long before Lance had discovered his other injuries. And, of course, the lion of _FIRE_ had to shut down on and _ICE PLANET_. This kind of really sucks. 

Another string of shivers shoots through Lance limbs, and _oh fuck_ that really does not feel bueno on Lance’s broken leg. He brings his tremblings arms to wrap around his body, trying his hardest to contain his body heat. He’s not sure what he’ll die of first: blood loss or hypothermia. Lance would prefer if he didn’t die at _all_ , and he knows it’s a pretty marginal possibility that he won’t. But Lance’s gotta be real here. Anything can happen, and that includes death. 

There are multiple downfalls to Red being offline. The most obvious is now there is zero warmth. But then there’s also the fact that he can’t even communicate with his team through the lion instead of his helmet (which is currently M.I.A.) Along with the fact that now he feels completely alone. A desolate landscape, with chilling air and no life in sight, can really benefit from having a lion buddy talking to you through your mind. And Red’s got a really fun personality, and she’s nice to talk too. Now it just feels like the cockpit of the lion is in stasis. Like all the air particles of stopped moving, and that’s totally the explanation for why Lance’s breathing is completely labored and it’s definitely not because he’s freezing and also is bleeding everywhere. The only thing that seems to be moving in the cockpit is Lance. 

The red paladin rolls the back of his head on the back of the pilot chair, attempting to massage out the knots in his neck. It doesn’t do anything, unsurprisingly. But it still felt kinda good, so he guesses that’s a plus. 

It’s just… this whole situation really sucks! Shouldn’t everyone be here by now? Or maybe Lance just has too high of expectations for his team. They don’t have Lance’s coordinates, they haven’t heard anything from Lance on account of the fact that he can’t communicate with them, and for all Lance knows they could be dealing with their own problems stranded on a planet even worse than the one he’s on. The idea makes Lance’s stomach twist itself into knots, but again, he’s gotta acknowledge reality. And the fact of the matter is he isn’t the top priority. Everyone is dealing with their own issues, Lance is just an afterthought. He tries desperately not to take it personally, but he’s sure that if he actually had anything or unique to bring to Voltron, he would be held in much higher regard. 

Unfortunately, there’s not much he can do about that fact. And all he can do at this very moment is just wait it out, and try not to die. 

Easier said than done. 


End file.
